


can you feel that? (it's love)

by StateOfGeorgia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I can and will insert a coffee shop au in here, M/M, a band au but not really, because he's the FOUNDATION, but i still made, did someone say bassist/songwriter oikawa, drummer daichi, karasuno's first years are tiny fans, keyboardist bokuto, lead guitarist kuroo, lots of pining, media management akaashi, no one can cook, security guard iwa-chan, suga the coffee shop barista, tech savvy kenma, the captains are band dorks, this is the band au nobody wants, will contain pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateOfGeorgia/pseuds/StateOfGeorgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But my love for you is pure, like oxygen gas and sodium chloride." Kuroo puts out, smirking like they should all be bowing to his awesomeness.</p><p>Someone scoffs. "What kind of songwriting is that?"</p><p>"The good kind, obviously."</p><p>~ a series of shots about cheesy songs, band dorks in love, and Sawamura Daichi's eternal suffering</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daisuga Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sawarmura Daichi Suffers: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! Welcome to the little mess I call this fic....this is my first piece ever, so comments/feedback are appreciated, adored, and read with care! Hope you enjoy this beginning chapter, and have fun ;)

Sawamura Daichi is a calm, understanding man. 

He’d like to think that out of all his friends, who, really, still had the minds of four year olds, he is by far the most logical and reasonable. He could lose his cool, true, like any normal human being, but so does everyone else every now and then! In his years as a volleyball player (and captain for one), he wasn’t a perfectionist, and was always compassionate, helpful even, when his team mates made mistakes. Hell, he made a lot of them too! He's patient, and definitely is not one to encourage nor approve of violent fits of anger. In fact, the level-headed drummer is so emotionally stable, a lifeless cave in the middle of nowhere would be jealous. Daichi is so chill, _ice_ is a distant relative. 

But, on certain days like this one, he clings to the knowledge that it's particularly difficult to murder all of his friends without getting thrown into jail.

“Kuroo-kun~ How did you manage to get such a simple recipe all toxic and bubbly like that?”

“Can you just fucking help me?!” 

“Akaashi would know what to do!! B-but... he's off visiting family...” A loud, unreserved sniffle. 

Kuroo curses. “Shit, he's crying. Oikawa, do something!”

The brunet sniffs haughtily. "Not if you won't ask nicely!"

Bokuto, a steady stream of tears running down his splotchy face, sobs even more loudly as the two bicker.

_Jail, Daichi,_ he thinks to himself, _you don't want to go there._ He spots a head of spikey hair entering the room and resists the urge to stand up and welcome Iwaizumi to hell. 

“Oikawa? The hell is going on?” As if Daichi knows. 

“Iwa-chan!," Oikawa coos, "Kuroo-kun was just making dinner!”

Their monster creation splutters. 'Dinner' bursts into bright red flames. 

Kuroo frowns, "Well, shit."

“Hey, hey, HEY!" Bokuto grins, tears seemingly _evaporating_ from his skin, "It’s on fire now, how cool!!”

“Kenma! Hey, put the game down and help me with this, would you?" Kuroo yells over the noise to an indifferent Kenma.

The boy in question looks up for all but ten seconds, decides whatever this chaos was wasn't worth his time, and buries his nose back into his PSP.

His best friend, not looking up from where he's fanning the fire, yells a bit louder. “Kenma! Game down!”

The blond complies, albeit with an expression of extreme annoyance. “Kuroo, I don’t think it’s supposed to thicken that much.” The pot, looking increasing like a gigantic cocoon of darkness, is bubbling haphazardly out of Kuroo’s cooking pot, tentacle-like and nearly spilling over the counter. “Also, you need a fire extinguisher,” Kenma adds. The flames decorating the mess called Kuroo's cooking shoot up another few inches. Daichi, strangely quiet and unnoticed, twitches. 

Kuroo decides to make it worse. “Maybe so, but nothing can extinguish the flames of _our love_ , right, pudding cat?"

There's a silence. Their friend holds both arms out, like he's waiting for applause. He scoffs, "Guys? Come on, that was awesome.”

Bokuto nods enthusiastically, shouting something incoherent including the words 'awesome', 'cool', and 'bro', which Daichi is honestly just too tired to decipher. Iwaizumi has this kind of disgusted look on his face like he just ate something sour and Oikawa leans forward to pat Kuroo on the back with a pitying, “that line was shit.” Kuroo pouts, sulking.

Kenma rolls his eyes, disinterestedly (Daichi wonders if he has any other facial emotions), and says, “Stop making that face, you look weird.” Kuroo sticks his tongue out and loosely throws a spoon at the blond .

As though it thinks Kuroo's had enough of the spotlight, the concoction-possibly an attempt at apple pie, except liquefied-makes a deep gurgling sound, akin to the growl of an angry tiger. In response, Oikawa screams and smacks the pot with a wooden spoon, looking even more ridiculous than usual with the (admittedly fashionable) white and pink Hello Kitty apron he’s sporting.

The Pot of Death bubbles even more menacingly. To Dachi's stress-addled mind, it almost sounds like a threat. Around the kitchen, spilled bags of flour, multiple empty packages of baking soda, a bottle of, of all things, chili sauce, and two empty jars of apple juice litter the floor. Iwaizumi, muttering something about “not in my job description”, is trying to desperately put the fire out with water, Oikawa practically dangling off one of 'Iwa-chan's nice arms'. Bokuto, with a look of determination on his innocent face, attempts to rectify the problem by adding more and more oregano. At various points, he tries to call out for Akaashi again, only to frown sadly when he realizes Akaashi is gone until tomorrow. Next to him, Kuroo is leaning against the kitchen counter unashamedly flirting- _speaking_ , he means speaking- with Kenma (who, as usual, doesn’t care).

Behind the two, Daichi raises his eyes to the ceiling, at this point praying for blessings of patience from literally every divine figure he knows. 

Kai, one of the managers for his building complex (yes, it's _his_ apartment they're trashing) wanders in, clearly curious about the faint cloud of black smoke coming from the open door. Daichi dares to hope; could this newcomer save him from this pain? When the four of his friends had come in wanting to use his kitchen, Kenma almost immediately retreating to the spare bedroom, Daichi had had no idea he would end up here. Here meaning his kitchen in shambles and the last dregs of is youth vanishing before his eyes. Kai, whom the sort-of leader has seen speaking (arguing) with the neighbors, obviously sees that the situation is way too far down the drain. The man makes eye contact with Daichi, gives him a look of supreme pity, and then quickly power walks away, slamming the door shut. Thus, Daichi's last shrivel of hope vanishes. Never to be seen again.

The former volleyball captain sighs, almost sardonically. He tried hard, really, a battle well fought, but Sawamura Daichi can be a calm and understanding man _another goddamn time_. 

He carefully picks himself off the ratty old chair in the corner. 

Bokuto's voice breaks through the chaos. “Kuroo! Do you think my arm will get stuck if I stick it in? Like, if I oil my arm up all greasy, could I get it back out?”

If they weren’t such huge pains in his ass, Daichi thinks, he’d applaud them for their creativity.

Kuroo's eyes are sparkling, like this is truly a _magnificent_ idea. “Bokuto, that… is the best idea you’ve had all night." He pauses, flashes a sharp grin, "Do it.”

Ugh. Daichi hates doing this, but it’s for their own good. These overgrown children need to learn that their actions have consequences; really, he hated being the bad guy, but they need to control themselves or else they’d never make it in the real world. First, you're experimenting in your friend's kitchen and making apple pie and then BAM! You're in jail, rotting away. 

Slowly, with every ounce of his will, he tries (really, really tries) to smile as he approaches the counter. Might as well make them feel comfortable before he kills them (lightly chastises, is what he means).

His owl-like friend, meanwhile, glows with the praise, “DUDE, I know, right?! Aren’t I awesome?!!”

Oikawa taps Bokuto on the nose with a spatula. “Bokuto-kun, you silly little peanut, why the fu- _Oh my God_.”

He sees Daichi quickly approaching the counter, and the dignified snort Iwaizumi gives at his best friend's impending doom alerts the others to his presence as well. Apparently, they see the burning flames of hell raging in his irises, because they hurriedly attempt to hide the overflowing pot with a few damp paper towels, which quickly burn and crumble to ash. Kenma, being the smart kid he is, nonchalantly scoots out of the room as Daichi stalks carefully into the kitchen like a lion going in for the kill.

The group (minus Iwaizumi, whom Daichi has graciously chosen to spare, since the man has suffered as much as he himself has) frantically scrambles behind the counter. In their haste, Kuroo manages to topple a bottle of vinegar onto the already messy floor. There's unobstructed fear in their eyes, except for OIkawa, who only looks slightly perturbed after a glare from Iwaizumi; even the pot of who-knows-what silences and hesitates for a moment before it starts bubbling once more. 

At some point, he becomes aware of Kenma returning to the kitchen and handing Iwaizumi a bag of popcorn.

“Daichi, man, bro, dude, my brother from another mother, my homie from another wombie-" Kuroo wilted as Daichi marched closer, "It was Oikawa’s idea!”

“Quit blaming me for your inadequacy and take it like a team player, Kuroo-kun!!” Oikawa seems to be the most confident of the three, looking him directly in the eyes. "It's not _my_ fault Kuroo wanted to make stupid love pies!"

Bokuto, who apparently has no fear of death or suffering, smiles. “Hey, hey, HEY, Daichi~ your aura is very dark!! So scary!!!”

It better be, he was pissed as hell! Whatever this had been would take _forever_ to clean up, and Daichi had spent the entire morning finalizing things with the managers. He missed the first train back home last night, had barely gotten any sleep, and, worst of all, didn't even get a chance for moening coffee before these pains walked in.He didn't have the patience for whatever the heck these people were doing. 

“What were you thinking?” Daichi slams his hands down on the table. A loud smack resounds from the marble. He grumbles darkly, in a low threat, “If any of you even want to _live_ to see your next concert, all of this better be-!

The pot explodes, and Daichi contemplates his life choices.  


((what has he done to deserve this?))  


\-------

Hours of Daichi passively reading a golf catalogue while the trouble group rigorously cleans pays off. The kitchen, thank the universe, gleams. Everyone, sans Iwaizumi and Oikawa, had left his apartment before the sun went down. Oikawa, who had spent almost all of those hours judging Daichi's choice of cleaning products, had finished two mugs of hot chocolate before promptly passing out on the counter. Iwaizumi, with a fond look Daichi didn't miss, had scooped up his friend and deposited him into the spare bedroom down the hall.

“Wow,” Iwaizumi says to him, handing Daichi a wet towel,” nice dad skills.”

He takes it, aggressively scrubbing his face, where there’s still hints of the disgusting remains of the Pot of Death. Ugh, it was in his hair too. “Shut up.” 

“I don’t know, the old 'go to your rooms' punishment seems like a pretty stable dad move, if you ask me. My old man used that one all the time. But good thing you made them clean their toys up before bedtime." 

“Shut up, Iwaizumi.”

"Okay, Best Dad 2016 award winner." The sort-of captain groans- he wasn't even a father! The fans just wanted a joke! Jeez, you buy one 3 year old fan ice cream and then suddenly thousands of girls think you're father material.

Iwaizumi slaps the carrot Daichi throws away from his face. 

“Okay, first of all, chill. Don't take your shit out on the carrots. You’re super stressed lately, which I get.” He pointedly raises his eyebrows near his hairline. “I have to make sure nobody dies on those damn tours.” That's true. Daichi admits that Iwaizumi, as one of their best bodyguards, has kept them safe from all kinds of weird people, crazed fans and rabid, hyperactive reporters. Out of everyone he’s stuck with on a near-to-daily basis, it’s probably Iwaizumi who’s most capable of not setting the entire building complex on fire. He's also the one who probably suffers as much as Daichi on a daily basis.

“But,” Daichi groans, because he feels another ‘you-need-to-relax” lecture coming on, “you know what, Sawamura?”

“What?” he asks.

“You need to relax.” Ugh, he knew it. 

“I am relaxed, the hell are you on about?” It’s a weak attempt, and Daichi knows he’s lying. He knows Iwaizumi knows he’s lying. He knows Iwaizumi knows _he_ knows he’s lying. But, how could he not be stressed? Who cared if he ran on thirteen cups of cheap, shitty coffee per day, there were songs to write and albums to finish. He didn’t need that much sleep, there were interviews to set up for and limited editions CDs to sign and fans who wanted autographs on the street. There just wasn’t time for relaxation, he had to coordinate with Kiyoko and keep track of the rest of the band and had to double check all of the finances along with Ukai. He had to be there for the team, at least give them the best shot at the chance they’ve been given. Daichi doesn’t mind, of course not. It was a lot harder back then when they didn’t have a manager and had to set up venue contracts and publicize all by themselves. He could relax once all the tour details were finalized and he’s waving goodnight to the last audience. He could relax once they’re all packed into the bus and driving home to Miyagi after the tour’s done and finished.

Iwaizumi seems to be a mind reader because he says, “Look, the managers are taking care of all the rest of the details. We have another two weeks before we have to hit the road. Nothing’s stopping you from, you know, sleeping. Or, God forbid, enjoying yourself like a normal twenty-something year old. You need to look for someone to settle down with. You should, you know, go out more.”

Between him and Yaku, Daichi honestly had no idea which one of them mommed the most.

“What are you, my mother? I'm not some lonely hermit, Iwaizumi, you can chill.”

Iwaizumi ignores him. “You should go visit this coffee shop near the studio. Oikawa knows the owner’s son apparently, and the place’s actually pretty cool. Classy. Would probably give you a nice break from that cheap coffee brand you keep drinking.”

Daichi snorts. Coffee-house trips were never fun. More often than not, he would be stuck signing personal items and foreheads for over an hour, leaving his own, precious coffee cup untouched. _No thank you._

“No. Besides, I don’t have time.”

“Make time.” His friend casually drops a sugar cube into his tea.

“I can’t just _make time_ , I’m busy!”

“Doing what, reading fanfiction for that volleyball anime you like? There’s literally nothing else for you to do, Kiyoko and Ukai are already wrapping everything up. You need a break!” He takes a long sip of his tea. The sharp edges of his hair perk up, and the bodyguard glances over at Daichi from over his cup. “And, there’s always the fact that I know about the infamous grapefruit incident in Tokyo.” Daichi twitches. “Pictures too, you know. Could probably sell them online, get some money out of it.”

“Why do you want me to go so much?” Daichi growls, aggravated. That night in Tokyo was still a sore subject for him, probably because it was literally the worst and most embarrassing few hours of Daichi’s life. He pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, grumbling. 

“Honestly?” Iwaizumi smirks at him, “I bet Yaku I could get your coffee shop hating butt to fall in love with Suga’s Coffee and Sugar. It’s literally the best place in town, not too many people, pretty quiet." To Daichi, it starts to sound like a sales pitch, "Personally, I bet Suga’s is more than enough to turn even grumpy old hermits like you into regulars.” Daichi snorts. Iwaizumi, unperturbed, continues, “Yaku disagrees, thinks some people wouldn’t trust all the employees that much, because they all look like punks supposedly.”

“I’m not going just so you can win a stupid bet," And it is a stupid bet. Seriously, who bets on whether or not a person would like a coffee shop? Like, how sad is that? He narrows his eyes at the man sitting opposite him, grumbling, “And betting isn’t a good lifestyle choice, Iwaizumi, it could easily turn into an addiction. So could blackmail, by the way.”

The man smirks, “Sawamura-kun~,” Iwaizumi has been spending far too much time with Oikawa, “do you really want to risk the grapefruit incident getting out? Just go, just once. And really, we do it for your own sake. Yaku thinks if I can get you to go, it’ll be really good for your stress levels.” The former ace smiles up at him sweetly, as though that’ll make Daichi want to punch his face in any less. 

(It doesn’t). 

Daichi growls, aggressively chugging back a mouthful of water. He swears to himself that he isn't going, no matter how much Yaku or Iwaizumi nags him to. He has work to do, seriously! 

\-------

The next night, he’s locked out of the studio in the chilly air with nothing but a map showing directions to Suga’s and the smiley-face sticker taping it to the door.

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....congratulations on making it this far, dear friend.
> 
> Happy reading,  
> Georgia :)


	2. Daisuga Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sawamura Daichi Suffers: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ dear readers! 
> 
> If you actually made it through the first chapter, bless you. You are awesome. Anyway, enjoy this one

Daichi shivers, sighing roughly through his nose. He watches as the air condenses in front of him, and tries to wave it away. The city is cold and biting at night, and as he buries his hands into the warm recesses of his jacket, the blinds of their neighbor's apartment windows snap close with a flashing wink of light.

He sighs again, checks the blinking white numbers on his phone, and makes his way down the dimly lit street, frowning the whole way.

Suga's is nestled comfortably a few blocks down from Karasuno Studio, between a motor repair shop and a beauty parlor. Daichi considers the building carefully. It's coated a pretty pastel blue, complementing the soft, moonlit white roof tiles. The sweet, unassuming smell of coffee and baked goods is almost entirely snuffed out by the one of hair product and motor oil. Even as he stands looking in from the window, the entire café spilling with yellow light. 

It's warm. Cozy. Almost nice.

Nice enough that Daichi feels just a little suspicious. It doesn't seem to be the base of a killer organization or a children's toy store, or anything that could be a place they'd send him to as a prank. Meaning he's been sent because either Yaku or Iwaiumi wants something. The bet? He considers the shop. The counter, from the looks of it, is teeming with pastries and about a hundred different roads to a tooth ache. It's odd, he thinks, that "gran muffin and black coffee" Iwaizumi sends him _here_ , of all places, for the sole purpose of betting against Yaku. _Yaku_ , who would sooner take time to propose to Lev than waste it meddling with anyone else's hassled, busy life. The short man is an incessant busybody, always in this place or that one, and the idea of taking time off to _bet_ of all things has, at least in the past, made Yaku scoff so loud Lev thought he was choking. It doesn't make sense, and the real, underlying reason Daichi's standing out in the cold on a Saturday night has yet to be revealed. And hell if he isn't going to find out what it is. 

At best, they just really wanted him to go out and relax. At worst, it's Oikawa using Iwaizumi to find him 'the love of his short, grumpy life' ( _agin_ ). The least likely motive is that they _actually_ want to help him relax.

There's a quiet shuffle behind him, and Daichi freezes. Oh God. It's definitely not the best position for him to be seen in, hovering outside an empty café like he's contemplating robbery, but the scrawny freckled kid who brushes past him to the door shows no sign of being suspicious. The boy's cowlick bounces slightly, and then stops, as its owner takes a moment to stare at Daichi, eyes bouncing back and forth between the exiled musician and the doorknob.

It takes only a few seconds of nervous eye contact before the mood starts getting a lot more awkward. Freckles (as Random Freckly Dude I've Never Seen Before is too much of a mouthful) clears his throat, and then his eyes are on the ground again. "Um, sorry, sir, but did you want to come in?"

Daichi chuckles quietly, trying to brush off his embarrassment. "Oh yes! Thank you," he says a politely as he can, blinking at the immediate warmth the store offers as soon as he's inside.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long with no one manning the counter," Freckles laughs shyly, and it's only then that Daichi notices another kid, a blond with glasses, trailing in after him. "I had to go deliver something, and Suga's always too busy baking. I'll be right with you in a moment, the pies are just... " he trails off, moving to the door near the counter and emerging with a wide platter of pies. 

His mouth waters a bit. They look _really_ good, and Daichi's always had a weakness for pie.

The blond snorts, pushes his glasses further up his nose, and spits out, "Unless you'd like us to give you and the pumpkin pies some time alone together, it'd be appreciated if you ordered already."

Daichi, already slightly pink from the cold, reddens, and the asshole, putting his attention on the freckled boy (who smiles semi-apologetically), continues, sounding both simultaneously bored and pissed off. "Yamaguchi. Finish up already, I have to get home and work on the English homework."

Yamaguchi (apparently) flusters a bit. "Sorry, Tsukki! Let me take care of this customer first, m'kay?" He smiles brightly at the other boy and the blond looks considerably more pink as he mutters a quick, "whatever."

Yamaguchi, not noticing a thing, turns around to face his customer and smiles politely, clearly waiting for an order. Daichi, who hears a voice that sounds suspiciously like Yachi telling him Suga's is a secret gang base, reluctantly orders a hot chocolate and a slice of blueberry pie. The seat he chooses near the counter is warm like the rest of the store, and Daichi watches as Yamaguchi and 'Tsukki' chat.

He chews a bite full of pie. Hm. He didn't think it'd have that much blueberry-

But _oh my God_ this was good. Better than good... Warm and fluffy and Daichi maybe-kind-of feels his souls transcend into the afterlife. Wait, maybe it was drugged! But who the hell cared, anyway? He could eat ten of these. Screw health. Screw good life choices. It's not like he'd had many of _those_ recently! He laughs (perhaps a bit too hysterically, judging by Yamaguchi's terrified face), and takes another bite, sighing a bit to himself. 

"Whose soul had to be sold to make these?" he mutters a bit to himself, almost on a high.

A light laugh sounds behind him, and a kind voice chirps out, "Mine, unfortunately! But you seem to be enjoying it far too much for me to regret it." 

Daichi turns, prepared to eagerly compliment the baker for his skills (and maybe ask for about two hundred of these things to go) and then abruptly stops breathing, pieces of muffin undoubtedly falling out of his mouth.

He's seen beautiful people before, but this guy was like a whole new level of _damn_.

Dear _lord_ he was beautiful. Maybe he was an- an _angel_ or something, he was too goddamn pretty to be anything else. Silver hair frames his kind, patient face as the moonlight comes in through the window, giving him a soft glow. His form looks almost delicate, what with his slender arms and full cheeks. The former captain could spend all day watching how the man's hand gracefully waved in front of Daichi's face. And God, _that smile._ Daichi feels himself sigh almost wistfully. The man's gorgeous brown eyes narrow, and for a second, Daichi thinks he looks almost worried. Oh no, no, no, no, _no_. This angel should _never_ have a care in the world, he has to be happy, is what he decides. _I can make him happy _is his next thought, followed quickly by _wow he has nice legs_. He's soon distracted by the way the man's lips are moving, giving him the occasional flash of pearly white teeth... It's fitting, the dark-haired man thinks, remembering the taste of his food. A muffin so delicious must have been made by an _equally_ delicious creator. __

The man's eyes widen.

Daichi stares. Realizes. Begins to mentally incinerate himself because he's an _idiot_.

When he looks back up from where he'd been slammed his forehead into the table, the other man (angel?) looks flustered. His blush, Daichi notices, spreads all the way down below his adorable baby blue sweater, taunting him. 

He fumbles for a second, and he just _knows_ there's bits of muffin all over his face and his mouth is still slightly open in awe. "Oh. Oh, shit, _I am so sorry._ That wasn't a come-on or anything, I swear. God, I am so sorry. I mean-"

The man, recovering swiftly from his embarrassment, laughs (it's pretty, too). "Hi! I'm Sugawara Koushi, baker, and apparently _delicious_ creator of your blueberry pie." His smile becomes a little more of a teasing smirk. "And, as much as I love being called that, just Suga will do!"

"R-Right!" The silver-haired angel keeps looking at him, and Daichi flushes.

Suga twists his lips into a pout (which does _not_ do strange things to Daichi's heart, stop judging him) and whispers petulantly to him, "I think it'd be lovely if I knew your name too, Customer-san!"

"Oh, um," the twinkle in Suga's eye shines," it's Sawamura. Sawamura Daichi!"

"Hmmm." The man hums, "I like it! _Sawamura Daichi_ "

"Oh, really?" Yamaguchi, who has apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation from a convenient distance, cuts in. "I've heard that name before....Aren't you some sort of famous lawyer or something?"

Daichi falters. His father, dammit, was the nationally-famous lawyer, and most had either expected him to be one also or on the way to the practice. "Well, I'm-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Yamaguchi," interrupts Asshole Blond, "Of course he is. My brother's worked with his father before. Akiteru says Sawamura-san's son had been in law school last time they spoke."

Daichi panics for a minute, because while he _does_ have a law degree, it wasn't like he had put it to any actual use. "Oh wow, a lawyer?" Suga asks, nodding like he's a little impressed, "that's an interesting profession, Sawamura-san! Do you enjoy it?"

The increasingly tomato-like man nods numbly and, if possible, reddens even more. "Um, yeah." It's not a lie, necessarily. He _did_ like it, at least during college. "It's a very competitive career, but I think it's very stimulating."

"Oh! Sawamura-san-" 

Daichi cuts in, "Just Daichi is fine." Wait, _what_? Shit, that was his given name. 

Suga positively beams (Daichi's heart stops).

"Well, _Daichi_ ," he emphasizes his name, and it sounds ridiculously good coming from his lips, "where'd you go to school?"

And that's how he, Sawamura Daichi, 23, drummer of Little Giants, screws himself over.

 ------

"Holy shit!"

"Kuroo, how much do you value your life?" 

Kuroo ignores him, tears in his eyes as he wheezes. "I can't- AhHAHAHAHAHA! You told him he was _delicious_? Oh God, oh God. I'm DYING!" The next cackle, surprisingly, is even more annoying than the last thirty-five.

The nearest object (a pillow, unfortunately) finds itself a projectile targeted at Kuroo's huge, unattractive head. "Shut up!"

"Wait, and _then_ you let him think you were a lawyer so he can think you're hot stuff, right? What, did you at least tell him your real name? Oh man, even Bokuto wouldn't have been that much of a dork!"

Daichi growls some more, voice lowering dangerously. "Kuroo. I can _and will_ tell Kenma about your little incident on the Miyagi tour. I trust that's something _neither_ of us wants to happen."

 _That_ sobers Kuroo up _quite_ nicely. 

"Woah, okay. Easy there." Kuroo holds his arms out in a sort of 'calm down' gesture, a look of almost-fear in his dark eyes. He raises his eyebrows to his hairline. "What exactly do you want to know, captain?"

Daichi has no idea. All he knows is he's desperate. He had stumbled pathetically out of Suga's door only last Saturday, and had quickly searched his contacts for someone to tell him _what the hell he was supposed to do_ , with very few viable options. There was, of course, Iwaizumi, but he had been apparently dragged off to do whatever odd, out-of-a-whim activity Oikawa felt like doing. Bokuto, who made about zero good life decisions on a daily basis, was out of the question entirely. Daichi's thoughts went to Kenma, but while the gamer was one of the most observant people in probably the universe, his knowledge of social situations was entirely limited to Kuroo, their tiny scrabble of friends, and the sketchy old man he bought video games from. Kiyoko and Yachi, in his time of need, went out of town and only return in a few days, and both his parents, he knew, would have been useless; the last time he'd tried, it'd ended with tears and a sobbed "our little boy is all grown-up!" There were other people, naturally, but the thought of walking up to either Ukai or Kyoutani, who looks like he could bite someone's face off, to ask for _flirting advice_ was unnerving. He had tried, once, with Ukai, and had only gotten a "Do I look like someone who was good at dating?" in response. Yahaba or Watari might have been good options, but both had gone off for family visits or whatever else was more important than Daichi's ongoing suffering.

And so, there had only been Kuroo, who, really, was still a pretty shitty choice. But, then again, desperate times call for extremely desperate measures, like grown men who don't know how to comb their own hair. But, Daichi doesn't give him nearly enough credit; Kuroo's smart, clever even, but being friends with Bokuto makes him think things like _what would happen if we skateboarded down the stairs?_ He's a pain, but would probably give fairly decent advice. Hopefully.

"How do I fix it?"

Kuroo scrunches his eyebrows together, like he's thinking. "Well. It's not like you were lying, you know. You do actually have a law degree."

Daichi gapes. "That doesn't make me a lawyer, Kuroo!"

"Doesn't it, though?"

"No!" He can't believe he's missing sleep to be at Kuroo Tetsurou's apartment debating this shit. 

"But if you have a _law degree_ -!"

"Kuroo, what the hell, do you know how this _works_ -" A loud yawn sounds from outside the open door. Footsteps pad softly from down the hall, and Kuroo whips his head around, hissing, "Shit, you woke him up!" 

"You two are being loud." Kenma walks into the room, bleary eyes focused on his PSP, and Kuroo immediately starts pawing at him. "What are you talking about?" he asks with vague interest.

"Kenma~" Daichi rolls his eyes, watching as Kuroo begins braiding a section of his "friend's" (were they still pretending?) blond hair. Kuroo continues, tilting the blond's chin up for a better angle, "Grumpy-kun has a crush and wants to have Sugawara Koushi's babies!"

"Kuroo! _Shut up!_ "

Even _Ushijima_ would have been better than Kuroo Tetsurou. What did Daichi ever do to deserve this hell?

"Why don't you just ask him out, then?" Kenma wonders, like asking out Sugawara Koushi was as easy as breathing. 

"What if he's not even interested in men?" Kuroo and Kenma both raise their eyebrows at that, nonplussed. "Okay," Daichi grumbles, "there's also the fact he thinks I'm a lawyer." _And how I can't talk when I'm near him._

Kenma nods calmly, like this isn't anything to worry over. "And you don't want to tell him you're a successful, nationally-famous musician that lives out of his parents' basement and has thousands of fans in Japan?"

"W-Well, he sounded so impressed that I was a lawyer!" The former captain stammers and buries his head into his arms.

Kenma sighs and goes back to his game, like the conversation has already bored him. Kuroo (very platonically, _yeah right_ ) pulls Kenma into his lap and rests his chin on a small shoulder, watching as his best friend defeats some sort of video-game monster. The angry warrior sounds coming from the PSP don't falter.

"Daichi, please," the blond says, still focused on whatever game he's playing, "get yourself together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be out for a few weeks because I must TRAIN (in the noble art of policy debate). Anyway! We'll soon be moving away from our current ship, but Daichi and Suga will still be around... checking the team's report cards... driving to concerts like soccer parents... etc, etc. Just one more chapter, and their section of this story will be done....
> 
> But! Here's a hint for what the next ship could _possibly_ be...
> 
> (oh who am I kidding, you all know- IT'S KUROKEN TIME, PEOPLES!)
> 
> Happy reading,  
> Georgia~


	3. Daisuga Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End (of the beginning)- and Iwaoi foreshadowing ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I totally had no idea where I was going with this whole lawyer trope- but anyway! if any one wants bonus chapters (cuz I have a few planned), lemme know
> 
> Tell me your alien conspiracies in the comments ;) feedback's great too

This wasn't supposed to happen. Two weeks after he had first stepped into Suga's coffee shop, things had been going well; Daichi was _this_ close to finally telling (actual angel) Sugawara Koushi that _sorry, I'm not a lawyer, but I was kinda hoping you'd take me anyway_. What better way to drop those two little tidbits of information than a nice, home-cooked dinner? Maybe some miso soup, a bit of rice, perhaps grilled fish and something sweet on the side...

That idea, of course, was destroyed almost as quickly as his kitchen.

Daichi stares, the counter practically spilling over in ten different sauces and several mountains of cooking supplies he couldn't even begin to name. He's in a little bit of a (rude, increasingly tight) pickle at the moment, but whatever. That's okay. Everything is okay. His kitchen is okay. _He_ is so incredibly okay that he didn't even flinch as their meal (i.e. death wish) crumbles into blocky chunks of ash. 

He's fine.

Really.

Daichi stares at the charred remains of (was it chicken? or maybe it was fish...) meat he's prodding with a spatula and tries to convince himself that life is still good. The situation was still fixable- Probably. Maybe. I mean, it wasn't _too_ bad; the chicken/fish/meat-y thing was completely black and crisp to the core, but his soup was only five shades darker and ten times as thick than it was supposed to be. But not all hope is lost, right? _At least_ , Daichi thinks weakly, _I still have my pie_ , looking at the perfectly baked apple desert Kenma had helped him create. Or well, had made himself and then brought over. Besides, Daichi's failure surely isn't as traumatic as his brain, confused and addled from the gross amount of fumes in his kitchen, is making him think. In reality, all he had done was prove that he couldn't handle basic kitchen appliances like an adult and could offer nothing (neither food nor adult-y skills) to the divine being from heaven called Sugawara Koushi. Who was coming over. _In thirteen minutes_. 

Looking back on his bandmates' incident, Daichi honestly couldn't blame them. Who knew this cooking thing would be so hard?

He thinks it would have been different, had it been anyone else coming over, even Yaku, who would have bitched for hours on end about Daichi's sorry living conditions. Maybe then his nerves wouldn't have made him spill so much oil into the pan or leave the food in the oven for so long. But unfortunately for him, it had to be Suga with his stupid smile and his stupid hair and the fact that every time Daichi stumbled over to the shop, Suga would be there, all dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes. It had to be Suga, who hums American pop songs to himself as he works and orders different flowers every week from the store across the street, who is so beautifully kind and devious and makes Daichi's heart thump just a little faster in his chest. It had to be Suga, and how the silver-haired man winks at Daichi every time an innuendo casually falls from his lips and how he gives the young students from down the street free candy and a soft smile when one giggles their thanks. It's _him_ , who was not so long ago just a pretty baker with a pretty smile, and how made himself even more beautiful in the course of two weeks. 

Daichi doesn't believe in love at first sight, but maybe, _just maybe_ , Suga had had him since the moment the shorter man first gave Daichi a toothy grin.

Wait, what the hell? How deeply screwed was he that he starts spouting romantic lines like _that_? 

Ugh. _If there was any time not to mess up, today would be it._

"Shit!" 

A "Watch your fucking language, asshole, I'm trying to sleep!" sounds from the elderly woman next door, accompanied by a heavy pounding on the wall. Daichi groans, cradles his head in his arms and sobs out, "Sorry Mayamota-san!" _don't mind my suffering,_ he thinks pitifully to himself.

He sighs, eyes on the ceiling, and makes a last ditch attempt to plead for mercy.

Reluctantly, he picks himself up and scrambles over spilled bottles of oil and tobacco sauce. _If I hurry.... I can do_ something.

Maybe he can show Suga he's not 100% _completely_ a screw-up.

Daichi rushes, legs sprawling over the floor, determined to preform a small miracle and vanish away the mess. 

Apparently, either the universe hates him, or he's just making _all sorts_ of bad decisions today because he's suddenly falling forward, feet slipping on oil. For a moment, he feels just a little weightless, the breath stolen out of his lungs in shock, and then his brain catches up. He sees the cold kitchen tile rapidly approaching, and then nothing at all.

__________________ 

The first seconds of consciousness are blurry, the haze of sleep and drowsiness still tugging relentlessly on his eyelids. It takes Daichi a moment to make out the starch white of his ceiling, and then the disgusting vomit green fabric of his couch. Groggily, he realizes the cold wetness on his forehead is a fabric-wrapped icepack.

"Whaaaa-?" he groans. His head aches. Wasn't he just cooking? Ham or cake or something for....what had it been for? Daichi almost never cooked meals that time-consuming for himself, so rather _who_ was it for? His parents, he remembers, weren't visiting until next month, and none of his usual drinking buddies ever wanted for anything besides alcohol. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were off doing things (gazing into each other's eyes probably), and Bokuto and Kuroo had... what did they say they were doing? Something to do with 'helping out a friend'. Whoever it was, Daichi pitied them. But if not those two idiots... Kenma and Akaashi almost never visited, the managers would have just called for anything they needed, and Suga-

 _Crap_. Daichi twists around the couch in surprise, cursing when his knee bangs against the coffee table. _Suga_. He needed to call, or text, God Suga probably thought _Daichi stood him up_ -

"Oh, Daichi!" An all too familiar voice, seemingly delighted, rings out from the direction of the kitchen, "You're awake, thank goodness. Gimme a sec!"

Wait, what?

"Suga...?" Daichi pulls himself forward, and winces when his headache worsens from the sudden jostling. "What're you-"

The other man is still bustling around in the kitchen, and it's only then that Daichi notices the delicious scent of food spreading around his apartment. A very confused Dachi makes his way to the marble island sandwiched between the living room and kitchen (a significantly less hellish mess than it was before). Suga, back turned to Daichi, hums as he cooks, having apparently borrowed one of Daichi's aprons and discovering where all of his (dusty, hardly used) cooking supplies were.

Ignoring the odd hum in his pulse over how _domestic_ the scene is, Daichi smiles. "Hey, Suga. You-"

Suga whirls around, shrieking, with an angry face that, if Daichi hadn't transformed into a frozen ice sculpture, would have made him fall to his knees in apology. "Sawamura Daichi," he growls, " What the ever loving _fudge_ do you think you're doing?!"

Funny. Daichi's been asking that his whole life (or at least since he met Kuroo and Bokuto), and he still has _no fucking clue_. Suga, however, is glaring at him like he's expecting an answer so the taller stammers out a (slightly intimidated), "Um. Well, I-"

It's apparently not good enough, because the coffee shop owner gently manhandles him back to the couch, muttering worriedly all the way about concussions, the importance of rest (followed by a "you dumb nugget"), and whether or not he should add lemon to the yakitori. 

"Wait, how did you get in?"

Suga halts his rant, and when Daichi turns to look back at him, his eyebrows are scrunched together. "Well, I was worried because you weren't answering your phone, but when I got here your door was open!" _to let out the poisonous gas from his shitty cooking,_ "And then I find you unconscious on the floor! I figured someone must have broken in or something, your kitchen-" Daichi flinches, "-was a mess, the guy really pulled a number on it."

"Did you call the cops or anything?"

A frown. "No, I didn't want to until I knew for sure. Should I have?"

Oh God. This is it, this is how Daichi dies: death by complete mortification.

"Ha... don't worry, no one tried breaking in."

"Oh? What happened?" He looks curious, like _tell me, how could you fuck up this badly_.

"I was trying to cook! And I kinda tripped over some oil or something, and-" someone save him,"-knocked myself out."

Daichi sits stock still, waiting on the couch, as Suga stares at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "So... were you trying to cook for me?" he asks innocently.

Suga sidles closer, teasingly bumping a shoulder with his own. Pressed together, in the light of the apartment, it’s increasingly difficult for Daichi to focus on anything else except the slight curves of the other’s smile. 

He swallows thickly, and nods. 

" _Daichi_ ," the other man whispers, voice low, "that's so sweet of you… Your girlfriend must love you for that." Daichi sways, a little dizzy, but whether that's a result of his recent hit to the head or how Suga's eyes look like melted chocolate from this angle, he guesses he'll never know.

"Girlfriend?" Daichi whispers, hoping his voice isn't as hoarse as it sounds, "No- don't…” Suga’s breath hitches, ” don’t really swing that way..." 

Silver lashes flutter. "Oh? Boyfriend then?" he asks softly.

"Don't have one of those, either...I’d like one, though..." Daichi murmurs, eyes catching on the light pink of the other man's cheeks as he sighs. His heart is thrumming wildly in his chest, but he gently grips Suga's wrists, tugging him closer.

"Yeah?" Suga’s nose bumps against his, lips tilting into a smirk. Daichi leans forward, just to check if they really feel as soft as they look...

Unfortunately, he doesn’t find out. 

"Hey, hey, HEY!! Sawamura-kun-" He and Suga practically spring apart. 

"Bokuto, you idiot, I think the captain and coffee guy were having a moment-"

"Oh really?! Damn. Go captain!"

He was going to _kill_ Kuroo and Bokuto. Yep, next time they go out for meat buns, _Daichi's only going to buy them one_. 

Suga doesn't even flich. "Captain?" he asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

Daichi attempts a smile, but it probably looks like a very painful grimace. "They've been calling me that since I was volleyball captain in high school."

"Hey, hey, Sawamura-kun, your face is red!! And it smells really good in here too!"

Suga gasps and practically sprints into the kitchen screeching, "Oh no, my yakitori!!"

Bokuto beams at him from the open doorway, and Kuroo flinches at his glare, "We figured you'd need help," he holds up a take out box, "So we brought eggrolls." A bob of blond materializes next to him. Kuroo grins. "And Kenma."

\---------

The intrusion, of course, had pissed him off (because, come on, he was pretty sure he was just about to kiss Suga), and had thought about destroying his two friends in the entrance hall, but had opted instead for idly watching Kenma play some sort of game that involved an innocent looking girl, a hospital full of patients, and a wickedly sharp knife. The screams and sounds of ripping flesh, while mostly drowned by the conversation, were still _very audible_ to the man standing not two feet from the gamer. 

"Woah, you're just as pretty as Daichi said you were!! Kinda like Akaashi!!!"

The hand holding Daichi's can tightens and Akaashi, who had seemingly dropped out of the ceiling after a call from Bokuto, sighs. "Bokuto-san, please." 

Suga laughs good naturedly, smiling as he starts up a pot of sukiyaki, "You boyfriend is very sweet, Akaashi-san." He's quick in the kitchen, going from spicing the yakitori to begin to boil udon. "How do you all know Daichi?"

Bokuto’s eyes widen excitedly, like they always do when he’s happy. ”OH!! We’re in a band and-“ Daichi’s eyes widen, and he makes what he hopes are _shut the fuck up_ gestures. 

Kuroo, thank God, jabs Bokuto in the stomach with his elbow and cuts in,”-and Daichi is just a really, really big fan!” 

A sigh of relief, but Suga looks at him for a moment, and Daichi thinks he looks almost confused. 

\--------

Ten minutes after Akaashi's arrival, there's an angry knock at the locked door, and Iwaizumi storms in as soon as it opens, a frightened Yachi at his heels. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and the hard set of his jaw makes Daichi worry for Iwaizumi's teeth.

"Do you even know the kind of shit I've just been through?! Stupid Shittykawa and his stupid-" he rants, oblivious to the stares of the six other people in the room, "-seriously, that goddamn _idiot_ -" He looks to Yachi, as in confirmation, and she nods furiously, "-I mean, what the fuck! He just _does that_ and then looks at me with those stupidly pretty eyes, who the hell does he think he is?! Sawamura, do you have-"

He pauses and, as if only noticing the multitude of people, turns red. Bowing deeply, he shouts out, "Sorry for the intrusion!"

Daichi laughs awkwardly, the room quiet, "It's fine, Iwaizumi-kun, and, um-" 

"Thank you!" Iwaizumi barks, and then marches down the hall into the spare bedroom.

A silence. 

"Welp." Kuroo starts, wide-eyed, "I wonder what happened to him!"

Six heads turn to Yachi.

She squirms under the attention, "W-Well, apparently, he and Oikawa-san-"

There's another loud bang from the entrance hall, and then Oikawa is shoving past Daichi, hair like he’d been in a tornado, but somehow still looking like a goddamn model.

After a brief, "I'm sorry, please excuse him, my Hajime is _so_ dramatic," Oikawa practically sprints down the hall letting out a high, "Iwa-chan, you brute! You can't just leave in the middle of-" his voice disappears. 

Daichi worries: were those two fighting? It was obvious those two were close, and they were about as painfully unaware of just _how_ close as Kenma and Kuroo, if not more. As the founding members of the Denying My Love for my Best Friend Club, the two were on a whole new level of people who needed to get their act together. The last time they had fought, actually, _really_ , fought, the entirety of their friends had been involved, and the result, to say the least, was disastrous. There's an awkward silence hanging over the rest of the group, all of them sans Suga probably thinking the same thing, until Bokuto whispers harshly, "Akaashi~, what's going on?"

Akaashi looks impassive, "I don't know, Bokuto-san, but it seems like-"

A crash comes from the spare bedroom, and Daichi worriedly thinks it's the lamp he bought only last week. He glances over at Suga from corner of his eye, searching for any sign of discomfort; he’s pleasantly surprised, however, when Suga looks amused, of all things. He looks comfortably at home in his frilly apron, moving away from the stove to stand by Daichi’s side. 

“Well, Daichi,” he starts, and Kuroo’s eyebrows go up at the familiarity, “I think the food is ready!” 

The tension dissolves, and when the two friends finally emerge from the bedroom, a happy smile plastered on Oikawa’s face, it’s to meet with laughter and the smell of deliciously cooked hot pot. 

\---------

His dining room is loud and bursting with conversation. He thanks his stars that, despite having next to no symptoms from bonking himself on the head, he doesn't develop another headache. Still, Suga, with a stern look, forces him to just rest. Of course, looking around at the people gathered at the table, laughing and cracking badly thought-out jokes, his body hums with energy. 

Oikawa and Suga, Daichi notices with horror, seem to get along _swimmingly_. They start up a conversation from across the table, giggling suspiciously (at least to Daichi). Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he’s jealous or threatened of the brunet; it’s the knowledge that either man alone could probably conquer Japan all by themselves without even breaking a sweat, despite the seemingly innocent demeanor the both of them put up. He fears what the two might accomplish should they choose to team up; the world, he thinks, would probably fall to its knees. 

He chews, thoughtfully, watching as his friends laugh and giggle, seemingly forgetting Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s previous incident. The brunet seems to have recovered well, chatting and being his usual annoying self, but now and then Daichi catches the occasional, indecipherable glances he throws to his friend. The bodyguard, eating his food at the speed of light, makes eye contact with Daichi and shakes his head, a very clear sign to _drop it_. 

”So Refreshing-kun,” Oikawa coos, humming the stupid nickname he’d come up with earlier for Suga, “what exactly do you see in our dear Sawamura, anyway?” he asks lightly over his glass. 

”Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warns. 

Suga giggles (and Daichi does not find it cute, nope, not _at all_ ), “I like a lot of things about him!” Daichi abruptly stops breathing, and Yachi, sitting next to him, looks panicked, “but I think I like his thighs best.” Holy _shit_. Suga has the audacity to _wink_ at him.“I mean have you see them? You could kill a man with those things.” 

For the record, no one could blame Daichi for seemingly choking on nothing. “Suga,” he gasps, “think of the children!” 

Kuroo snorts from the couch, “You better not mean Yachi and Bokuto!” 

”I think he means you, Kuroo-san.” 

The entire table breaks into peals of laughter, and Daichi’s chest, for some weird, inexplicable reason, feels warm and glowing. Looking around, eyes drifting from friend to friend, Daichi thinks it’s the happiest he’s been all week. 

Suga, delighted and still giggling, huffs out, “Relax, Daichi, I was just teasing!” 

Daichi coughs, “Right, of course!” 

Suga smiles as he retreats to the kitchen, returning with serving dishes full of more food. Everyone squeals in delight (because Suga’s food is god-sent) as the cook says, “Anyone up for seconds?” 

“YEAH!!” Bokuto screeches, reaching for the egg rolls. Suga slaps his hand away with a “use a serving fork, Bokuto-san, it’s still hot!” 

“You too, Kuroo,” Daichi says, catching him grabbing at the rolls as well. 

As he lifts his fork to his mouth, Oikawa smirks. 

\--------------

As the night flies by, and the silver-haired man not only deals with Kuroo and Bokuto's antics and Oikawa's interrogation of a conversation, but actually _answers them back_ , Daichi feels a lot more impressed (and just a little bit more in love). 

\--------

Three (life-threatening, Oikawa has _no chill_ ) attempts at a board game, one apple pie, and two hours of headache inducing karaoke later, Sawamura Daichi collapses against his doorframe, waving as the last two guests (other than Suga) start the walk home. God, he was _exhausted_. 

Suga seems to know how he feels, yawning widely like a kitten as he nestles into the couch. 

“Wow, your friends sure are-“ he pauses to yawn again, “-interesting.” 

Daichi laughs. That was certainly a nice way of putting it. “Yeah, they can be a bit of a handful sometimes, though.” 

Suga smiles, gently leans his head against the arm of the couch. “Daichi…”

”Yeah?” He heads to the fridge and pours himself water, glancing at his guest from over the marble island.

”You know I’ll still like you even if you’re not a laywer, right?” Daichi chokes. 

He continues, making his way to Daichi’s side. “I saw one of your album covers like a week ago.” 

He pales- _shit_. Suga knew he was a goddamn liar. ”Listen, I’m sorry-“ Daichi starts, but is cut off with a wave of Suga’s hand. 

”Honestly, you nugget. Did you think I would stop liking you solely for our job?” A scoff. “I’m not that shallow- I didn’t mention it until now because it wasn’t a big deal, at least until Kenma told me you were beating yourself up over it.” Daichi should be more focused on the topic at hand, but can’t help but zero in on the em>liking you part.

Daichi grimaces, “That’s because I lied.” 

To his surprise, Suga rolls his eyes. ”Sawmura Daichi! You didn’t lie, Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi just never gave you a chance to prove them wrong. It’s not a big deal, Dai-“ the nickname, Daichi loathes to admit, is cute as fuck, “-like, we mentioned it once and then moved on.” 

”Besides,” he continues with a sly smile, “I’d really like to know you better than just what your job is. Maybe over dinner, next Friday?” 

He reddens, and the glass in his hand almost slips. “Did you just ask me out?” 

”Yep! So?” Suga beams. 

Daichi figures his face must look like a strawberry, with how much he’s blushing. Of course, he screws it up even more with a, “Ah-m, Y- I-I mean, sure. Whatever, that’s cool.” 

A lot of things change, he thinks, but the sight of Sugawara Koushi’s smile being able to leave him nearly speechless is not one of them. 

\---------

Two days later, when they walk into dinner at Kuroo's, Daichi _swears_ he hears Oikawa mutter something like, "Mission accomplished."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....so this is like 4 weeks later than I expected to update. But yes, dear readers, I have returned, and will continue torturing you with bad attempts at humor ;)
> 
> there'll be actual band activities next chapter, very sorry for that delay- also, Kuroken :)


End file.
